Partners in Crime
by Langus
Summary: While the rest of the gang celebrates leaving Neverland behind for good, Emma and Hook partake in a little celebration of their own below deck. A steamy little one-shot for Captain Swan fans. Hook x Emma. May contain season 3 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_Partners in Crime_

Emma navigated the narrow passageway to the Jolly Roger's crew quarters and found Hook exactly where she'd expected to find him - alone and partaking in his favourite hobby. From the far end of the hall the jubilant conversations of her family and unlikely allies could be heard, but here it was quiet. He painted a sad sort of portrait sitting there with his bottle to his lips and his eyes fixed on the narrow strip of sky visible through the porthole. Hearing the scuff of her boots at the door, he looked up and expelled a tired sigh.

"Come to guilt me into joining the party, have you?"

A faint, understanding smile played across her lips as she crossed the threshold.

"Not exactly."

Her feet took a tour of the small space and she inspected the array of shelves lining the walls. Each was adorned with an assortment of cubbies, stuffed carefully with a variety of items. There were haphazardly rolled maps, books of star charts, an old compass, and trinkets he'd collected from god only knew where. She fingered a small frosted glass bottle that looked as though it might have held some exotic perfume at one time, and then made her way to the bench opposite him to take a seat.

"Rum?" he offered, holding the flask out to her.

She declined with a shake of her head and folded her hands in front of her.

"Why aren't you up there celebrating with the others? Isn't that the sort of thing you Storybrooke lot enjoy?"

"Not all of us," she muttered with a pained smile. "I don't know how to do _this_. I don't know how to be part of a family."

Her eyes flickered over to him and he fixed her with a commiserating look. "I know the feeling, love, but I don't think there's any 'right' way to be part of a family. You just are."

The tension melted out of her shoulders and the furrow of her brow softened, making her appear years younger than she had only moments ago. Though she generally took whatever the black clad pirate said with a grain of salt, his words had struck a chord. Her frown gave way to a soft smile and she drew up a knee to make herself more comfortable.

"How's about you and I have our own little celebration then?" Hook offered with a mischievous lift of his brow.

Emma's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I don't think-"

"Hold your horses, lass," he chided. "That's not what I meant."

After a moment of rustling through some boxes, he returned with dark glass bottle in hand. He offered it to her with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"I was saving it for a special occasion, but I suppose now's a good a time as any."

Her hands slid over the cool glass, brushing away a faint layer of dust. The glass had a rough texture that hinted at its old world origins and for a moment she simply stared at it wondering what other treasures he kept hidden away on his boat.

Hook softly cleared his throat and sheepishly lifted his hook into view. "If you don't mind…?"

"Of course…" she replied brusquely, bowing her head to hide the embarrassed flush that darkened her cheeks. The cork came loose with a loud 'pop' and she held the bottle out to him. Hook deferred with a slight bow and courteous reply of 'ladies first'.

The bottle's contents held the faint odour of fermentation and she tentatively put it to her lips. Champagne bubbled sweetly over her tongue, exploding with the faint essence of berries and honey. When the old myths spoke of ambrosia, the drink of the gods, she had to believe this was what they'd meant. With a soft groan of appreciation, she swallowed and turned the bottle around to examine the label.

"This is a $20,000 bottle of champagne!" she gasped, her eyes going wide. "Where did you get this?"

"It's better if you don't ask," Hook explained, taking it from her hands with an apologetic lift of his shoulders. "Pirate, remember?"

While she stared open-mouthed, he put the bottle to his lips and took a generous sip then handed it back to her.

"Now, how about a toast."

Retrieving his small flask of rum, he held it up ceremoniously and offered a toast to finding Neal, retrieving Henry, outsmarting Pan and making it 'the hell off that bloody island'. Emma quirked a brow and touched her bottle to his before taking another (this time more delicate) sip.

"Thanks for your help," she said sincerely, "We couldn't have made it out of Neverland without you."

He fixed her with a rakish grin that had the unfortunate effect of making her heart beat just a little bit faster in her chest. "You know, there are other ways you can show your gratitude."

Her heart made a sudden leap at the reminder of the last time she'd chosen to show him her gratitude. What had started as a 'thank you' had turned into…well…far more than she'd expected. With a light cough she cleared her throat and did her best to look unaffected.

"What part of 'that was a one-time thing' didn't you understand?"

"Yes, well, you kissed me, love," Hook protested, slumping down onto his bench. "Figured it couldn't hurt to see if you'd changed your mind."

With a scoff and a shake of her head, Emma put the champagne to her lips and drank another mouthful. If she wasn't careful she'd drink the entire thing and there'd be none left for the others. A $20,000 bottle seemed a terrible thing to waste on distracting herself from the pull she felt towards a certain cheeky pirate.

"Come on, love," Hook prodded, "don't look so serious. We're supposed to be celebrating, remember? Let down your hair for once. You might actually have a bit of _fun_."

Emma glanced pointedly at the long golden strands hanging limply over her shoulders and then back at him.

"You know what I mean," he muttered with a casual wave of his hand.

As much as she was loathed to admit it, he did have a point. With so much of her life spent simply surviving, she'd never been afforded the luxury of fun. She didn't know how to let loose or 'let her hair down', as Hook had so eloquently put it, because she'd never learned. The fact that he was the one to point this out to her – a pirate with a 300 year old vendetta – didn't make things any better.

"What about you," she countered, "You won't even take your jacket off at a 'party'."

"Well that's pragmatic, more than anything," he drawled, fingering one of the large brass buttons adorning the cuff of his sleeve. "Ever seen a one-handed pirate try to get into or out of a leather jacket? I can assure you, it's a truly undignified sight."

Emma felt the heat rush up her neck to scorch her cheeks. Hook spared her further embarrassment by looking away and taking a long swig from his flask. Crap. She hadn't meant to insult him. After everything he'd done for them, the last thing he deserved was to be reminded of what Rumpelstiltskin had taken from him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" she offered meekly, but he didn't reply.

Determined to make amends, she took several sips of liquid courage and then set the bottle aside.

"Going so soon?" he asked, his weary tone suggesting that he'd expected her to leave him long ago.

"Get up," she ordered, anxiously getting to her feet. His brows lifted in a look of genuine surprise and she impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to the other. After a few long seconds, he too dropped his feet to the floor and stood.

"Turn around," she instructed, feeling less certain with every passing second.

"I like games," he teased with a lascivious smirk, but indulged her by turning around with a flourish.

Pulling in a deep breath through her nose to steel her nerves, Emma slid her hands up the soft, black leather covering his shoulders and grabbed hold of either side of his jacket. With a gentle tug, she pulled the garment towards her until it peeled off his solid frame and sat warm and heavy in her hands. He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"I shouldn't have said…" she tried again, but faltered and looked away.

"Don't trouble yourself, lass," he reassured her. "Come, let's have a drink."

Freed from the restrictions of his coat, he lounged on the bench across from her with an arm resting across his bent knee. Emma did her best not to notice the way his shirt and vest clung to his torso, accentuating just how solid he was beneath those clothes.

"What will you do once we get back?" she asked, hoping to distract herself.

"Well, piracy and revenge have always been a good business," Hook reasoned with a pointed look at the bottle cradled between her hands. "Don't see any reason to stop now."

"After everything we just went through, you're still going to try and kill Rumpelstiltskin?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing in disappointment.

"And what would you have me do, Swan? Settle down in Storybrooke where everyone knows I'm nothing but a no-good, bloody pirate?"

She looked up in time to see his jaw clench and his hand form a fist where it rested across his knee. The tremor of anger underlying his words hid a deep-seated pain she recognized all too well – the pain of being an outsider.

"Not everyone thinks that," she admitted quietly. "I don't think that."

Hook's eyes met hers and the faint glimmer of hope in them made her heart squeeze tight. Sometimes all a person needed was someone to believe in them, to believe they could be better, before they realized it for themselves.

"You saved my father's life on that island," she said, holding his gaze. "And you helped save Neal and Henry. Those are the acts of a hero, not a villain."

"Even if I did it all for you?"

His blue eyes searched hers with a look that penetrated right down to the very marrow of her bones. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to respond. Sure, they'd shared a kiss but it didn't mean anything, not really. Or did it? With Henry and Neal and David to think about, she hadn't had time to dwell on it while they were still on the island. Now that they were alone and she found herself staring at his lips while struggling to form coherent thoughts, she wondered if maybe their kiss hadn't meant something more to her, too.

Not trusting herself to stay, she set her bottle aside and rushed to her feet. "I should go…"

Hook swore softly under his breath and intervened to block the door. "Swan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Yes, you did," she cut him off, not giving him a chance to explain.

They were standing so close now that she could smell the leather of his vest and the hint of rum that clung to his breath. If she tilted her head up just so, his lips would be within reach. She remembered with a vivid flash how their first kiss had felt – the soft pressure of his mouth against hers, the faint, pleased moan that had sounded in the back of his throat, and the rush of liquid heat that'd ripped through her veins, silencing any lingering doubts.

"I was right about you from the start, you know," she said, placing her hand softly against his chest. "There's good in you, Killian, there always has been. You just have to want it."

She dared to look up then and heard the breath catch in this throat. A shy smile pulled at one corner of his mouth and his eyes softened as they held hers.

"I know what I want, Emma."

With his good hand, he brushed the underside of her jaw in the faintest touch and her eyes drifted closed. Killian Jones wasn't perfect. In fact, he was even more troubled and mixed up than she was, but that was the beauty of it - he _understood_. With him there was no pressure to be anyone other than the flawed orphan that she was and she hadn't realized just how badly she'd needed that until that very moment.

After what'd happened in Neverland she didn't feel sure about much of anything anymore, certainly not her love life, but standing there, looking up into his soulful blue eyes, she was certain of one thing – Killian Jones, the infamous "Captain Hook", loved her and she couldn't think of a single good reason not to kiss him.

With a slight lift of her heels, her lips touched his and she knew there was no going back. The first time she'd kissed him was to assuage her curiosity and shut that well-shaped mouth of his that always seemed ready with a saucy quip. She'd kissed him to prove him wrong, to show that she could more than handle his flirtations. This time was different.

This time she kissed him because she understood what it felt like to not have a place to call 'home', or a family, or someone to miss you when you were gone. This time she kissed him because in all of that chaos he'd been right by her side, never wavering, never causing her to doubt that he would be there to see it through till the bitter end. This time she kissed him because he never asked anything of her and never demanded more than she was willing to give. This time… This time she kissed him because she couldn't bear the thought of stepping off this boat without knowing what might have been.

Hook inhaled a sharp breath through his nose and went very still until her hands slid up the soft leather of his vest to wrap around the back of his neck. He pulled her against him with a needy groan and she melted into his solid length the way a body relaxes into a bed after a long day. It was a gentle release of tension, as though every part of her simultaneously uttered a soft sigh of release without ever making a sound.

If their first kiss was liquid fire, this one was a slow burn. With a tilt of her head the kiss deepened and a comforting warmth spread through her to the very tips of her toes. Was kissing him supposed to feel _this_ good? Their feet shuffled slowly away from the door until his back met the nearest wall. He grunted with the impact and a coy smile played across her lips. Everything about this felt _right_, from the rapid beat of her heart to the gentle caress of his calloused fingers across the naked skin of her back.

His lips transferred their affections to the column of her throat and her hands went to the buckles of his vest, unhooking them one by one. He shifted his shoulders, impatiently shrugging the garment off until it landed with a muffled 'whump' on the floor. His sword belt was next. With a quick jerk of her hands it came loose and then joined his vest on the floor.

"I knew you were a feisty one," Hook chuckled against her neck. He pulled back, his eyes bright with amusement and tenderly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. She caught it between her teeth, offering it a light nibble before releasing it. He grinned slyly in approval and bent his head to capture her mouth.

She'd never felt anything like it. As her hands slipped beneath the loose hem of his shirt to explore the body underneath, she found herself craving more. Running her hands over the firm muscles of his stomach and up the broad plains of his back wasn't enough. The need for him had become something that was more intoxicating than any bottle of champagne could hope to be.

Her body wanted his in a way she'd never wanted anyone. When he kissed her, silly, pleading sounds escaped from her throat, sounds she hadn't known she could make. When his hand slid up her spine, her body moved with it, arching into him in a way that would've struck her as needy and desperate if it weren't so damn exhilarating. Emboldened, she hooked a leg around his waist and ground her body against his.

"Emma…"

Her name fell from his lips and his hand slid down the length of her thigh, pulling her closer. It was clear from hard bulge in his leather pants that she wasn't the only one feeling turned on. She ground against him seductively, letting her hips do just as they damn well pleased, while her lips explored the side of his throat. There, she teased his rapidly beating pulse with the tip of her tongue until he made an encouraging noise in the back of his throat that sounded remarkably like a growl.

"Careful, love, or you'll unman me yet," he warned, breathless.

Biting her lip to stifle a smile, she slipped a hand between them and loosened the stays of his pants. His brow quirked upwards in approval and he aimed a cautious glance at the door.

"What about the others? Someone might come looking for you."

"Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to ask questions?" She nibbled at his bottom lip until he gave a soft moan of approval.

"Can't I do both, love?"

He ravaged her mouth until her lips throbbed and then bent his head to explore the hollow space where her shoulder met her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy and she wondered why she'd ever been reluctant to want him.

"Killian…"

His name was torn from her in a broken whisper as her hands clawed into the material of his shirt.

"Yes, love," he answered, fixing her with a look that was so tender words all but failed her. A sudden shyness took over and she glanced in the direction of one of the beds.

"We should-"

"Emma? Are you down here?"

Their bodies froze as Mary Margaret's voice reached them from the end of the hall. A momentary flash of panic sliced through Killian's eyes and Emma expelled a defeated sigh before untangling herself. While she re-buttoned her pants, Killian closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the wall looking as though he well and truly wanted to punch a hole through something. Taking pity on him, she re-laced his stays and then fastened his sword belt into place. With a quick shake, she removed the dust from his vest and then slipped it over his shoulders as well. She knew he could dress himself, but there was something intimate that she liked about dressing a man after so thoroughly un-dressing him. When she was done, she offered a soft, apologetic kiss against the underside of his jaw.

"You're the devil herself," he remarked, sighing pitifully as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Takes one to know one," she shot back with a smirk.

More calls for her reached their ears and she uttered an impatient sigh. Retrieving his coat from where she'd left it on the bench, she held it out for him to slip his arms into and then pulled it up over his shoulders. Standing back to admire her handiwork, she gave an approving nod and took up the half-drank bottle of champagne.

"Time to go," she urged, taking a step towards the door.

"We're not finished here," he protested, attempting to ply her with a lingering kiss.

Licking her lips to savour the taste of him, she fixed him with a saucy look of her own and slipped out of reach.

"Far from it, Captain, but right now we have a party to get to."

Killian expelled a sharp sigh through his nose and then held out his arm for her to take.

"My lady?"

Stifling a giggle, she looped her arm through his. There would be curious looks and questioning glances from the others, but with a single reassuring glance from Killian all of those worries subsided. If they could survive Neverland, they could survive this. Besides, from what she'd tasted so far the reward that awaited them was so completely and utterly worth it.

* * *

_Author's Note: _Hey there OUAT fandom! *waves* So, this is my first attempt at anything OUAT or Captain Swan. I'd love some feedback on characterizations etc. Really loving this pairing at the moment, so I may write some more of them if you guys like this little bit. Thanks for giving it a chance!

Update: Part two is titled "The Return Home". I hope you'll give it a read!

Cheers,

Langus


	2. Chapter 2

_The Return Home_

Killian Jones stood at the bow of his ship and listened to the sound of the waves lapping softly against the hull. Storybrooke harbour spread out before him, a vast ocean of black ink. Those waters had taken him on a thousand different adventures, each one more dangerous and thrilling than the last. He'd seen the greatest wonders the world could offer and learned the brutal truth of how loneliness could destroy a man. In all that time he'd never considered another path, but tonight the land called to him with a quiet, unassuming voice.

He knew the reason well. From the moment a certain fair-haired lass had entered his world, nothing had been the same. Through sheer force of will, Emma Swan had reminded him of what it meant to fight for someone with everything that you have, to live from one day to the next concerned with only another's happiness. She was the sort of woman who made a man question where he was going and where he'd been. He'd questioned a lot of things since meeting her – about his desire for revenge and the sort of man he wanted to be – and tonight was no exception.

Killian raked his fingers through his hair and then rubbed at the back of his neck. He hadn't slept a single good night since arriving in this bloody town and doubted he would until he saw her again. She would come to him eventually, he was certain of it. 'Til then all he could do was wait, but by God it was torture. Knowing she was so close yet still out of reach, knowing that she was spending time with Baelfire – _Neal – _while he waited dutifully on his ship, made the days feel long and the nights even longer. He'd never considered himself a jealous sort of man, but perhaps there was a first time for everything.

His hand curled reflexively around the aged wood railing in front of him and he expelled a ragged sigh. Were it anyone but her, he would've hoisted anchor and been on his way moments after arriving in this insufferable place. She'd left him with no promise, no real assurance of her affections apart from a heated kiss shared below deck, but he couldn't leave without knowing. As 'Captain Hook' he'd accumulated a long list of regrets, but Emma Swan would not be one of them.

A changing of the winds rattled the sails above his head and brought the soft sound of footfall from the docks to his ears. The steady pace, the slight echo of a heel - was it possible? His stomach did a nervous flip and he moved to the side of his ship. Resting against the railing, he feigned a casual air and peered down at the dock. Her pale face stared back up at him wearing a shy smile and the breath momentarily stalled in his lungs. He'd never seen a more welcome sight.

"Evening, lass! Something I might be able to help you with?" he called down to her, sounding far more at ease than he felt.

"Permission to come aboard?"

An uncontrollable grin spread across his mouth, "Permission granted."

She made quick work of the stairs, expelling a sharp sigh as she hopped off the last step and onto the deck. The urge to pull her into his arms was strong, but he hid his clenched fist in the folds of his jacket and took a step back. He couldn't make any assumptions. After all, she might have come to tell him 'good-bye' and what sort of fool would he be then with his arms wrapped around her like some lovesick pup?

"How's Henry?" he inquired, surprised to find that he actually did care. It was a natural enough reflex, he supposed, after spending days on end risking life and limb to bring the boy home.

"He's good!" The note of cheer in her tone rang false and she glanced away. "He's…staying with Regina tonight."

"I can't imagine that's easy for you," he ventured, drawing closer.

Her shoulders lifted in a helpless gesture and she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. He recognized that look - the one she used when she was trying to pretend that something didn't bother her when it did. He wanted nothing more than to fold his arms around her and ease away that worried frown with a soft touch. He crossed his arms in front of his chest instead and rested his shoulder against the wooden mast of his ship.

"Regina's his mother, too," she countered. "Besides, it was Henry's idea."

Ah, so that was the rub. Emma Swan was afraid of very few things in this world, but losing the love of her son was at the top of her list.

"It must be hard for the boy," he commiserated, idly stroking the stubble along his jaw. "He has two mothers who love him and no matter whom he chooses to stay with he'll inevitably hurt the other."

Emma's brows furrowed until a deep crease formed between them. "I hadn't thought of it like that," she admitted quietly. Moving to the railing of his ship, she leaned back against it and fixed him with an uncertain look.

"Well, love, I'm no expert but I've seen how the boy looks at you. In his eyes, you are every bit the mother Regina is. He's only trying to do the best by both of you."

Emma nodded, her expression softening with relief. "Thank you."

"For?"

"You always seem to know exactly what I need to hear." A shaky smile lifted the corners of her mouth but soon faded. "I'm going to miss that."

"Are you expecting me to be going somewhere?"

When she couldn't seem to meet his eye his expression fell and his stomach clenched into uneasy knots. _No. _The plea circulated through his head, sounding as desperate as it was futile. His eyes followed her as she moved away from the railing, looking for some sign that he was wrong. Her lips pressed tightly together and she wrapped her arms around herself like a shield. Damn his intuition. Killian closed his eyes in silent defeat, knowing before she spoke a single word what would come next.

"I can't ask you to stay, Hook."

He released the breath he'd been holding and opened his eyes. So, this _was_ 'good-bye', then. If she'd slipped a dull blade between his ribs it would've hurt less than this. He grimaced at the sudden ache in the centre of his chest and called out to her.

Perhaps it was only a trick of the moonlight, but he thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes when she turned to face him.

"I thought about what you said before and you're right - this town isn't meant for someone like you. It's not meant for someone like me either. Truth is neither of us really belongs here. I just wish-" She paused as her voice caught and brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

"I wish that I could go with you, but I can't."

He'd been in this same place many years ago, on the night Milah begged him to take her away. She'd cried bitterly into his shoulder, yet refused his persistent offers to retrieve Baelfire and bring him along. "A pirate ship is no place for a young boy," she'd told him with an adamant shake of her head. That night Milah had put her own happiness first – she'd chosen him over her family, and he'd let her because he was young and selfish and in love.

Three hundred years later history was repeating, but the woman he loved was prepared to make an entirely different choice. And he would let her, because it was the right thing to do.

"Henry needs me right now and I need him," Emma explained with a withering look. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he managed to say as shock flooded through him.

In one of the rare moments in his life, words failed him. Here she was, apologizing – _apologizing _– to him for not being able to go with him, for needing to put her son first. He was a bloody idiot after all for not reassuring her, for not telling her before that he would always be there. He opened his mouth to speak but a lump rose into his throat, cutting off any sort of intelligible response.

He reached out instead and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers skimmed across her cheek as he pulled his hand away and that faint touch sent a tingle of awareness rushing down his spine. For weeks now he'd longed to have that sort of familiarity with her, where such a simple gesture took no thought at all.

"It's true - this ship has been my home for centuries. I can't imagine life without her," he conceded with a wistful glance about the deck.

She nodded understandingly and tried to step away but he slipped his hook around her arm and gently tugged her back.

"But a certain lass suggested I might try giving up piracy for a while and it seems she had an interesting idea."

A cautious flicker of hope cut across Emma's features. "What are you saying?"

He leaned in closer until the warmth of her breath tickled his cheek. Her eyes peered up into his, wide and searching, gleaming like two emeralds in the moonlight. Unable to resist touching her again, he wound a lock of her golden hair around his finger and brought it to his lips. He took his time with his next words, certain that they were more clear and heartfelt than any he'd ever spoken.

"It's no secret that I love you, Emma. I have loved you from the moment you tied me to a tree, held a knife to my throat and threatened to feed me to an ogre."

A surprised laugh burst from her lips and he felt his own pull back into a boyish grin. As first meetings went, they couldn't have done much worse. Not wanting to lose the moment, he caressed the side of her face in a gesture he'd dreamt of doing a thousand times.

"We make a good team, you and I, and good partners are damned hard to find. Rest assured, love, I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes reluctantly slid over to the town. "But you hate this place," she countered pitifully.

"I imagine it grows on you after a while," he reasoned with a crooked smile.

Her face pinched into an expression torn between pain and relief and she fell against him then, her arms wrapping tight around his back. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of her warm, solid body against his. She smelt of sea salt and rosemary and..._home. _He gripped her tighter knowing that in his arms was the future that had so long eluded him.

"Tell me to stay, Emma."

She pulled back and dragged his mouth down to hers, kissing him with an intensity that stirred up memories of their first dalliance. That kiss had taken him by surprise, left him breathless and weak in the knees. This time he caught her against him and held her close, conscious of the ache in his chest and determined to memorize the feel of her lips against his. She whispered something and it was a moment before he heard, before he understood. A single word, repeated over and over again like a plea.

_Stay._

His heart soared and he kissed her again, just to taste that word on her lips. _Stay_. She wanted him to stay. He felt like a boy again, filled to the brim with hope and possibility. He pulled away, breathless, and took her by the hand.

"Let's go inside, shall we?"

She didn't hesitate to follow him as he led her down the short flight of stairs to the Captain's quarters. There, she waited patiently by the ladder while he went about lighting the various lanterns hanging from the walls.

"This is nice," she said, her eyes travelling about the uncluttered space.

"Well, it's home," he replied with a light shrug and blew out the taper in his hand.

He felt a sort of unfamiliar vulnerability as she moved about his space, studying different objects, picking some up and setting them back down. Aside from Milah, he'd never brought another woman to this part of the ship. Every one of his secrets was here, tucked away from the world. And here she was exploring them, looking at the artefacts of his life with the sort of casual appreciation one has when walking through a museum.

Her gaze eventually settled on a small pile of books resting next to his bed. She picked up the volume laying askew across the top and examined its cover.

"Moby Dick?" She lifted a curious brow and flipped through the weathered pages.

"It's a good sea tale," he told her with a note of defensiveness.

She smiled secretively and set the book back where she'd found it. Crossing the room, she slid her hands up his chest and wound them loosely around his neck.

His hand went instinctively to her waist and he arched his head back to study her in the dim lantern light. "Does it surprise you that I enjoy reading from time to time?"

"Not many things surprise me about you anymore."

"Careful, love, or you'll make me sound boring and predictable," he teased with a lopsided grin. The familiar scent of her filled his nose and he drew closer, intending to continue where they'd left off above deck.

"I doubt that you could ever be either."

His brow gave a little twitch and he smiled down at her, certain he could spend the rest of his days searching all the realms and never find another woman as intriguing as her. But it wasn't enough simply to want her. He needed to know that she wanted him, too, and not just for another dalliance.

"Emma," he prodded, keenly aware of the anxious knot growing in the pit of his stomach, "Is this truly what you want? From me, I mean."

She went quiet, understanding what he was asking. A soft sigh left her lips and her hands fell away from his neck. He clenched his jaw, resigned to the worst.

"I don't take leaps of faith; I don't let people in," she explained, the reluctant acceptance in her tone apparent. Her eyes avoided his but her hand came to rest atop his arm, a constant, reassuring pressure.

"Growing up I knew that I was unwanted, that I was no one's first choice. I got used to the idea but then there were times when…I'd take a chance and let someone in. I always wound up hurt in the end.

She swallowed hard and her hand curled into the loose fabric of his sleeve as she remembered the sting of old pain. His thumb gently grazed her cheek in a comforting gesture and her eyes met his, the expression in them disarmingly vulnerable.

"Eventually I got used to the idea of being alone and stopped letting people in. For a while it was easier that way. I couldn't get hurt and others couldn't hurt me. But living like that - it's empty, meaningless. You've been there, you understand."

"Aye," he replied, his voice rough. He knew all too well what it felt like to be betrayed, left behind and forgotten. It pained him to know how much of her life had been spent suffering the ache of loneliness. If he had his way, she'd never have cause to feel unwanted or unloved again.

With a deep breath and a shake of her head, Emma blinked away the shadows of her past.

"I think maybe it's time I take that leap of faith Gold was talking about."

He swallowed thickly and felt his heart clench inside his chest. "And you're certain I'm the best choice for such an experiment?"

A timid smile trembled across her lips and she boldly lifted her eyes to his. "I've never felt more certain about anything in my life."

The breath he'd been holding escaped his lungs in a rush and his mouth widened into an unstoppable, jubilant grin.

"Love, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that."

Her features lightened at his response, her expression mirroring his, "I might have some idea."

He stopped smiling long enough to kiss her in a move that felt so blessedly natural he wondered if he'd died on Neverland and this was his wholly undeserved reward. Her fingers tightened around his shirt collar and tugged him closer.

"You and I have some unfinished business," he said, his voice dropping lower.

"Do we?"

He bowed his head to nuzzle the side of her neck and her fingers made quick work of the clasps on his vest. The garment fell to the floor and his shirt was soon pulled loose from his pants. A satisfied noise sounded in the back of her throat and then her hot mouth descended on the exposed skin of his chest, mapping it with kisses.

"Please tell me you left Mary Margaret at home," he pleaded, his eyes drifting closed as her lips explored a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. She laughed lightly, her warm breath cascading over his skin.

"I promise it's just us."

His fingers slipped through her hair, the golden strands sliding like silk across his skin. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her tenderly, feeling no need to rush. Tonight he would take his time. After waiting this long, he fully intended to show her exactly what she'd been missing.

With a soft mewl of delight her mouth opened under his, inviting him in with a tempting sweep of her tongue. He went willingly, nearly losing himself to the careful rhythm that quickly developed. Just as before their kiss built to a frantic almost feverish pitch that left them pulling at each others' clothes and uttering soft groans into the night. Before long she'd wrapped her leg firmly around his waist – or had he done that himself? – and his hips were rocking against her core.

With an impatient grunt, he lifted her other leg around his waist and he carried her to the bed. He set her down atop the sheets and she eagerly pulled him down with her. The feel of her beneath him was a sobering moment. He pulled back and took a breath, stealing the chance to admire the view.

In front of him was a vision he'd only dared dream before now. Emma Swan stretched out across his tiny cot, her hair tousled about her head, her eyes bright with anticipation and her cheeks bathed in a light pink flush. She reached for him, her hands slipping beneath his shirt to skim his sides and quietly thanked God for his good fortune.

"You're beautiful," he said sincerely, his voice low and soft. "Absolutely beautiful, Swan."

A flash of nervous uncertainty crossed her features and then she sat up, her hands coming to either side of his face. She held his gaze, the warmth in her eyes catching him by surprise, and then she closed the distance between them, kissing him slowly and deliberately. She paused just long enough to gently pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up.

With a disapproving cluck of his tongue he plucked at the hem of her shirt. "It hardly seems fair, love. Here I am shivering in the cold while you remain hidden under all those clothes."

"Stop being such a baby," she retorted and with a shift of her hips had him on his back.

His hand moved boldly up the length of her thigh, feeling the subtle tightening of the muscles beneath her skin. He dared not admit just how often he'd envisioned those those legs wrapped around his waist, those thighs his head… Her body shifted, gliding over the steadily hardening bulge in his pants and he groaned in spite of himself.

"That's not very nice," he protested, biting his lip to stifle another groan as she rocked against him once more.

"Nice is boring."

He chuckled darkly and took hold of her hips, pulling her flush against him as he thrust upward off the bed. She gasped at the sudden contact and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Two can play at that game, love."

"You couldn't handle it," she shot back and pulled her shirt up over her head.

The garment met the floor with a soft 'whump' and for a moment he could do little more than stare in awe at the woman before him. Haloed by the dim lamplight she looked positively radiant. He brushed a tentative hand down her arm, marvelling at the creamy texture of her skin. He'd never be able to let her go after this. With a single glance she'd left him well and truly besotted.

"Killian?"

He stirred, catching her questioning glance, and lightly shook his head.

"Can't blame a man for stopping to admire the view," he reasoned, gently tugging her towards him. "Rest assured, lass, it's positively breathtaking."

A faint blush crept up her neck and he grinned as his lips passed over it.

"Do you ever stop flirting?"

"No," he admitted, pressing a kiss to the column of her throat. "I've tried, but it's impossible around you, Swan."

He was certain he heard her mutter something unladylike under her breath but in the next moment he lost all focus entirely. While her mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kissed down the naked skin of his chest, her hand slipped between them. His hips bucked automatically at the feel of her soft touch stroking him through his pants. Her light, teasing touch promised nothing short of endless pleasure if it weren't for his damned pants. Frustrated and overeager, he fumbled with his stays in a vain effort to loosen them.

"Need some help?"

She didn't wait for a response before pushing his hand away and slipping the ties loose one by one. He swallowed hard as the last of the laces fell free and her hand delved into his pants, wrapping gently around him. When she began to stroke him, slowly, confidently, his head fell back against the pillow. He was her willing victim, his hips helplessly thrusting into her hand as became impossibly hard. The thought of being inside of her, wrapped up in her, left him throbbing and his hand clutching desperately at the sheets.

"Emma," he ground out, his breaths coming short and fast. "_Please_."

She reluctantly released him and crawled slowly up his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind on his stomach, his chest and finally his neck. When her lips were within reach his mouth crashed onto hers, his need too demanding to allow for anything more gentle.

He rolled her beneath and set to work teasing and exploring every delectable inch of her. Her fingers tunnelled into his hair, urging him this way or that, harder or softer, with a gentle tug. With a little help he managed to remove her pants and then settled between her thighs. What he'd wanted, more than anything, was to taste her and with several well placed strokes of his tongue she was squirming beneath him.

"Killian, that's…"

Words failed her as her body arched off the bed and into his mouth. He slid his hand over her hips, holding her tight as they lifted and squirmed beneath him. Giving up on his hair, she gripped the sheets instead, her breaths coming shorter, faster, more erratic to match the pace of his tongue. He brought her to the brink and then pulled back, watching with satisfaction as she twitched and shifted impatiently in search of release.

"Why'd you stop?" she pouted.

"Because when I make you come, Emma, I want to feel it."

It was selfish of him, he knew, but he wanted her to be inside her when she fell apart around him. He wanted to be the one to make her lose control and to hold her in his arms when it was all over. He settled himself at her entrance and then lifted his eyes to hers. _Do you want this? _ Emma nibbled at her bottom lip and then answered his unspoken question with a faint nod of her head. He wasn't even aware of the breath of relief that rushed out of his lungs, only the feel of her hands on the side of his face and to touch of her lips against his.

Since meeting her he'd had more dreams than he could count that ended like this, but no fantasy could have prepared him for that first thrust. It stole a shaky moan from his throat and he bowed his head, eyes shut tight in an effort to regain control. By God she felt like heaven. Her legs hooked loosely over his hips and her hands slid up the taught muscles of his back, urging him closer. He rocked against her, forcing a soft sigh from her lips, and she changed the angle of her hips, pulling him deeper.

It was a struggle to focus on something other than the feeling of her innermost muscles clenching him tight, or how the slick wet heat of her core wrapped so completely around him. With every move of his hips he felt like he would break and then she'd do something like grab him and pull him tight against her or softly moan his name and he would find himself fighting a losing battle for control.

"Emma, love, I can't-"

He groaned pitifully as her mouth found a particularly sensitive spot on the side of his neck and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

"It's okay," she whispered frantically. "I'm-"

And then she gripped him tight and then he felt it – the tremors rocking through her, her body fluttering and clenching tight all around him. He cursed softly and found the strength to move inside of her twice more before following her into oblivion. He was dimly aware of the strangled sound of her name on his lips and the soothing touch of her hand in his hair when he collapsed, spent, against her chest.

They lay like that for a long while, until he realized that he was likely crushing her and reluctantly picked his body up off of hers. She looked disappointed when he sat up but her features softened when he tucked her against his side as though she'd always belonged there. Her fingers played idly with the hair on his chest while his gently stroked the length of her spine.

"Will you stay?" he asked softly, wincing at how the roughness of his voice broke the comfortable silence.

She tilted her head and smiled up at him, looking perfectly at ease, "I will if you will."

"Well, I guess it's settled then."

A victorious smile curled his lips upwards and he pressed a soft kiss into her hair. Aye, he would stay. There was no question in his mind. In his arms rested the woman who'd given him back his life, who'd given him a purpose and a future. He would move heaven and earth itself to remain by her side. Killian's eyes softened as he glanced down at Emma's sleeping form curled trustingly at his side. After 300 years of searching, he'd found his home.

* * *

_Author's Note: _The prequel to this little fic "Partners in Crime" had such a great response I had to continue the story. I hope you guys enjoyed the follow up! Any thoughts/comments are welcome. I loved reading your reviews of the last one :)


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